My car purred to life as I revved the engine and tore out of the decrepit neighborhood before I did something stupid like jump out and climb the fire escape to rescue the girl. I was savvy enough about women to know Alyson was bound to be pissed if I tried to rescue her. And why would I want to do that anyway? She was a stuck-up, do-gooder lawyer who toyed with me in jail, but then she was this nice woman who smiled at me at Roman’s place. Her split personality, going from ornery to demure and back again, was giving me whiplash.

Why did I keep running into her? And why did I even care? I was a free man since Camper was gone. My gyms were booming and I was making lots of dough. So, what the hell was stopping me?

Guilt, anxiety, and grief rattled through me like the gearshift grinding beneath my palm as I shifted into fourth. I pushed my speed as I sped out of downtown, across the bridge to the north side of Pittsburgh where I lived along the river.

If I didn’t already have beer in my belly, I’d go back to the gym and lift. After all, pushing my body had been my way of dealing with my emotions for the last two decades. First there was Little League with my dad. Then the Pony Leagues, Amateur Athletic Union baseball, and college ball became my coping mechanisms, a way I could not only feel close to my dad after he was gone, but also a way to take out all my aggression. Lifting and training had been my saviors since I was sent to my grandparents as a little boy. Back then, I’d known what I had done, and to deal with it I would tire my body with endless push-ups and sit-ups, and running suicides. Because tiring my body would quiet my overactive brain riddled with guilt.

I was well aware that Lane knew too. We didn’t have that identical-twin brainwaves shit they portrayed in the movies, but I could see equal parts pity and anger every time he looked at me since we were ten years old and living in our grandparents’ attic.

That’s why I’d fucked women—screwing hard and long helped stop the pain, and took the edge off my anxiety. Sex and working out was the only combination I knew that worked for me. When I got older, I’d turned that focus into a business, building the gyms and filling them with a constant stream of willing women.

And now I found myself obsessing over a lawyer—a public defender, of all people. Even if she liked me, once she learned what I’d done she would probably throw me back into the same jail where we met.

I hit the button for my garage and watched the door climb, then pulled my BMW inside and parked it next to the Hummer. As I walked between the two vehicles, I stopped to kick the front tire of my truck in defeat. Here I stood in a garage full of expensive foreign cars worth more than several years of Alyson’s rent, yet she lived in a tenement. I needed to get her out of that place to somewhere safe. Not my arms, because those definitely weren’t safe, but at the very least, I could make sure she moved.

After punching in my alarm code, I went straight to the fridge and grabbed a light beer before walking out onto my deck. Murky river water lapped underneath me as I tipped my head back and took a long slug, taking in the star-filled sky that loomed overhead. This had been my city since I was ten, but I’d never really belonged. I deserved to be an outcast, but not Alyson. Ever since she stepped into that interrogation room, there was something about her . . . I just didn’t know what.

Now I did. The whole tough, lady-lawyer thing was an act, a facade she hid behind that felt comfortable and secure. But inside she was lost, a young girl still trying to find her way. All you had to do was see her away from the justice system, like outside her apartment or out at a restaurant, and the real Alyson was revealed.

How the fuck did I know this? As sure as the moon was shining down on me, I knew it because we were one and the same. The only difference was I was a little boy stuck in a man’s body. I might not even be able to help myself or get over the shit I did, but I sure as hell could help Alyson Road.

With renewed vigor, I stepped back inside my townhouse, then dropped and did a set of push-ups, followed by a ridiculous number of sit-ups. As my body worked, my mind cleared and worked out a plan.

I woke up a new man with a purpose. My phone buzzed while I was downing a smoothie and getting ready for the gym. I snatched my phone from the kitchen counter and grimaced when I saw Lane’s name on the screen.

“What happened to you last night?” he said, without even saying hello.

Thinking fast, I answered, “I ran into an old friend. Sorry, I should’ve texted you.” I crossed the kitchen while tucking the phone in my neck, grabbed my wallet and keys, and headed to the door.

Lane continued bitching in my ear. “I wasn’t worried. Figured something caught your dick’s attention.”

“Stop baiting me, Lane. I’m doing fine. You saw yourself, I’m making progress. Tell Bess, and kiss the baby. Maybe I’ll pop up for a night in the next few weeks. I could use some country air, but not when James is there. He’s way too much woman for me.”

Lane laughed into the phone. “Got you, buddy, but you know I can’t forget how good he is to Bess. Speaking of my lady, I’m on my way back home, but I’ll be back in town soon. The hotel CEO wants my software, so don’t miss me too much. Also, I texted Jax, the foreman who rushed the job on my house. He’s used to large projects, so he’s going to call you to see what he can do for yours. It’s up to you, but I think you should get rid of the current guys and put Jax on this.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Current dudes have gotta go,” I muttered.

“And Jake, I’m here for you.”

I swiped my finger across the screen, ending the call before it got mushy.

That was exactly what I needed to avoid. Lane had been covering my ass since we learned how to talk, and I needed to cut the cord. When we were little, Lane would take the fall for spilled milk and messes in the yard. In college, he played along with my duplicitous games of bait-and-switch, pretending to be me with the ladies, and he’d rescued my stupid ass way too many times as an adult. Money here, negotiations there. It was enough.

I might never be able to repay him for his ultimate sacrifice and cover-up, but as of today, I was on my own. It was time to stand on my own two feet and do some good, something to absolve my soul of the blackness I felt there.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to keep the good vibes going when I finally arrived at my gym. As soon as I walked out of the locker room, I spotted Camper on the treadmill, her big bushy ponytail flapping around as she ran at a grueling pace. I made a quick detour at the café for a bottle of water, then crossed the gym at the front to get to the weights area without walking past her. I guess we never discussed her giving up her complimentary gym membership, which was a big mistake on my part.

Starting with some pull-ups, I let my mind relax. Breathing in, puffing out, I let my brain go still as the veins bulged and popped in my arms. This was my happy space, when my breath came out ragged, my pulse twitched, and a slight pang of pain coursed through my taut body.

Working out and sex were the only two ways I found relief. As I pushed my reps, my flaccid cock brought to mind how long it had been since the latter. A good week or two . . . or more?

Since I’d cracked the guy’s skull on Christmas Eve, Camper had been letting me hit it pretty regularly, at least up until the day she quit. I thought it was guilt or some shit like that, but I guess she wanted more. Commitment was the one thing I didn’t do. Not ever. Who the hell would want a fuckup like me?

I’d just moved over to the stack of free weights and grabbed the heaviest ones I could find when I heard her.